


You Were Too Eager

by MarikoFics



Series: You Died: A Compilation [1]
Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Genderless MC, Gurobob stole my heart, Knifeplay, Mildly Dubious Consent, One Shot, Other, Rough Sex, Self-Mutilation, Violence, You Died, btd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 14:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12278439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarikoFics/pseuds/MarikoFics
Summary: From a series of BtD one-shots I'll be making. All different protagonists, all different endings. Sometimes male, sometimes female, sometimes unstated. Sometimes things aren't exactly what they seem. The order in which they appear is not always the order they take place.





	You Were Too Eager

**Author's Note:**

> With all those people going into that basement, Strade's bound to pick up a weirdo now and again.

You like pain. A lot, in fact. It was something you never quite understood, and never cared to bother trying. It simply just made you a little bit different than those around you, but it wasn't very noticable. No one really cared about that.

 _Causing_ pain, however? You cared about that even more. You forced those who were stupid enough to get close to you to care, too. You were a slow, lazy predator. Never picking out victims, always letting them come to you. After all - if they were curious enough, _isn't that their own fault?_ It was always interesting to find out what kind of person would approach you and why.

 _What would their reaction be when they realized they'd made a grave error in taking you home with them? Their reaction when someone so small and easy to handle had a monster lurking inside of them?_ It was always so much fun.  
  
Few things about you were approachable. Despite being small in stature, your appearance was sharper, a little harsher than most would go for. You had the feeling the aura around you warned others to stay away, but even so...occasionally, someone fell into your lazy fly trap, thinking that perhaps you were just misunderstood.  
  
The Braying Mule was a place you only came to on occasion when the mood struck you. Tonight, it seemed it was a mistake to come in. There was no one interesting here, no one paying the slightest attention to you. _That was fine_ , you mused. Having a drink like a normal person had some merit still, and the beer in front of you was good enough company.  
  
Your head turned only a little when you hear the front door jingle, and the man walking in seemed familiar to you. _That's right_ , you mused. You've seen him a couple times, chatting up other people in the bar that keep to themselves. _Never you_ , though. There were always more interesting people to talk to than you. It was fine with you, because he seemed like such a jolly idiot. He was _too_ friendly, _too_ inviting and happy with the other patrons. It was a touch annoying, and it got on your nerves. It was never interesting to watch _him_ , only the people whom he would go home with.  
  
They were more your type. In fact, maybe that's why you didn't like him. He was too friendly to your potential victims, probably _"showing them a good night"_ with that stupid happy look on his face the entire time. The thought of it made you gag and roll your eyes.  
  
You went back to your drink, finishing it and slowly watching the ice swirl around at the bottom of the glass in your hand. Deciding you were bored to tears and even the drink couldn't save your night, you get up to leave - only to find another drink being put down beside you.  
  
Curiously expecting the bartender, you're surprised to see it's that man that annoys you so much.  
  
"Hey buddy. You looked like you were having a bad night. Maybe a chat would help?"  
  
His wide-eyed smile would be so inviting...if you were normal.  
  
_Oh great_ , you bitterly thought. _He finally picked me. The happy fool picked me._  
  
"No thank you. I was just heading home." You said to him, glancing at the drink, and then back to his face.  
  
The man had the nerve to laugh - giving that warm, inviting chuckle you'd heard across the bar. "Well, you're polite about it!"  
  
Wanting to roll your eyes, you find yourself nearly getting up - though a small scar on his chin catches your eye. Interesting. You find yourself lowering yourself back to the bar stool. Wasn't this what you did? Let idiots into your trap? You thought this man would annoy you - but there was something about him you finally noticed. Even if he wasn't your usual type...maybe you would like him, after all?  
  
_Maybe it would be fun to see if he would be so friendly and happy after the things you'd do to him._  
  
"I'm sorry." You give him a weary smile, taking the drink and nodding towards him, enjoying a sip. "You're right, I'm not having a good night - but it's rude to take it out on you. You seem like a really nice guy."  
  
He beams at you, and introduces himself as 'Strade'. You tell him your name, and notice how much he seems to love how polite you are.  
  
You note it would be fun to be polite until his last, rattled breath.  
  
Meaningless words are exchanged with Strade. This part is always boring for you, it passes like a blur. You only feel something once they take you home. It's always their home. _Never yours_ \- it's too much fun to see how someone's home can quickly become a terrifying prison to them.  
  
As you get to the bottom of your drink, the boring passage of time suddenly stops. You feel woozy, something isn't quite right with your head. You stare at the bottom of the glass that you've sloppily put down on the counter, almost tipping it over. Rubbing the side of your tongue in your mouth, there's a taste you can't believe you didn't notice.  
  
_How exciting. How primal._ Your eyes go wide - as wide as they can, because you feel sleep taking you fast, and a dull hum getting louder in your ears.  
  
This guy, _no, Strade_ \- has drugged you - and you never expected it, not even for a second!  
  
"Whoa, buddy!" You feel his hands on you as you lean to the side, quickly losing control of your own body's actions. "I wouldn't have offered you another if I'd have known you were such a lightweight!" He's joking, and the last thing you hear before your eyes shut is his stupid, inviting laugh.  
  
It doesn't seem so stupid anymore. In fact, _you_ feel like the idiot now.

  
\---

  
You wake up to the damp smell of copper, the room around you dark. _This is a basement_ , you know right away - even though your mind is still just recovering from the tainted drink.  
  
You also know what that other smell is - and excitement shoots through your body. Oh, someone's lost blood here. Recently, too. The dark stains on the floor indicate someone bleeding out - maybe from limb loss? Suddenly, you remember everything that happened. Your wrists are tied behind your back, to a pole, and warmth spreads from between your legs up to your face in a flush as you begin to realize the compromised position you're in.  
  
The sound of footsteps on the nearby stairs grabs your attention and the lights turn on, temporarily blinding you and causing the dull thudding in the side of your head to amplify for a moment.  
"Wow, already awake! For being such a lightweight, you handled that drink like a champ!" Strade was smiling at you like he'd told a great joke, his eyes roaming over you and his handiwork of your tied body.  
  
"How are ya feeling?" He asks with that thick accent, the one you didn't notice, _or care to notice_ , before. Was this man German? You really should have been paying more attention to him. Everything about him was suddenly much more interesting.  
  
Strade's smile twitches and he takes your awed silence for impudence, though he seems aware of how shocked and curious you look. A boot flying into your side causes you to cry out in surprise, sucking in air harshly as pain radiates through your torso. Oh, he's definitely bruised a rib. Maybe just short of cracking it.  
  
_It feels incredible._  
  
You spent so long trying to ignore this man before. You never wanted to ignore him ever again.  
  
"I- ...I..." you can't find the words you want to tell him. He takes a step back, leaning down to observe your expression. The fact that you're at least trying to talk has his attention, and that might be what's saving you from another kick.  
  
"Yeah, buddy? I know you're the quiet type, but don't hold back. You were just starting to open up back there at the bar."  
  
It's a threat. His voice is much less friendly now. It fills you with a heat you haven't felt in a long time. You adore this tone so much more than the fake front at the bar.  
  
"Y-You kicked me." You finally speak when your lungs can fill back up with air, and it's such a dumb statement. You have to stay it out loud to believe it - to believe this is happening in reverse when you expected something much different to be happening right about now.  
  
You have his attention. "...y-you tied me up in your basment. ...w-why? What're you...going to do with me?"  
  
The words felt foreign coming out of your own mouth, even though you've heard them countless times before. It felt...strange. _Good? Bad?_  
  
_I used to like being hurt_ , you remember.  
  
"We're just going to have some fun, buddy!" He pulls out a knife. Your eyes go wide, and he mistakes it for fear. Is it a mistake? _Do_ you feel fear right now?  
  
"But...you know, it would be rude to not offer something first. You need anything to drink? To eat?" He turns the knife around in his hand at his side. Any normal person would desperately ask for something - anything, to distract him from that knife.  
  
But you're not normal.  
  
"N...No." Your eyes are stuck on the spinning of that hunting knife at his side, and you're squirming with what you recognize is both fear and anticipation. There's no time to eat! You want to find out what else this man can make you feel. You're already more interested in him than you've ever been in anyone else.  
  
You want him to hurt you. Do you want to hurt him? _Oh god, yes_. You want to see how he'd react.  
  
"That's fine! I'm eager to get started." He raises an eyebrow, and you wonder if he's noticed you're blushing. You blush even more when he leans down and starts cutting your clothes off - pausing when he sees some old scars you made when you were a child. Yes, you used to experiment on yourself when you were young and bored. It quickly became _much_ more fun to just do it to others.  
  
"Who did this to you, _liebling_?" His tone towards you has shifted...just a little. His expression is greedy as one hand finishes cutting your clothes, the other tracing a scar you had on your leg. The only thing he leaves you in is your underwear, and you feel oddly thankful. It wouldn't be fun if he noticed too quickly how excited you were.  
  
You choose to be honest. "...me. I-I did it to myself...a long time ago." You never stammer, but it's all you've been doing around him. It's humiliating, but it feels _so right. So new. So surprising._  
  
_"How interesting."_ Strade is grinning, and you see his tongue dart across his lower lip. He might have been planning to use that knife on you, but you can see the gears in his head turning...and he leans over you to hover the knife across the ropes on your wrists.  
  
"I'll give a choice then! I'm going to use this knife on you...or you can use it on yourself. What's it going to be?"  
  
You squirm, biting your lip from the contact of his body against you. You have no idea. Both of those sound _absolutely titillating._  
  
One of those options, however, gets a knife into your hands.  
  
".. ...I..I'll... .." You hesitate. You're still not sure! You're so curious as to what he _would_ do. "D-Do it myself." You quickly spit it out, the second you can sense him tensing up from your indecision.  
  
"All right!" He sounds _very_ excited as he slips the rope off your wrists with his knife. You note he doesn't cut through them to ruin them - probably planning on using them again later.  
  
Strade steps back, tossing the knife to the floor in front of you. Leaning forward on your hands and knees, you carefully grasp the handle with shaking hands.  
  
"Why don't you replace those old scars, hm? Stay on the floor." He leans back on the counters, his neck and face turning red with lust the moment you slowly lower back down to a sitting position with the knife. You hover the knife over the old scar on your leg.  
  
It wasn't very deep. Just enough to cause a mark. You bite your lip as you drag the knife across the old scar, beautiful blood beading up to the surface. Panting and wincing, you glance up to him to see if it's enough.  
  
_"Deeper."_ Strade commands, clearly unsatisfied by the shallow cut. You would be, too.  
  
_"NGH.."_ You cry out a little as you dig the knife into the old wound, making it a little wider on accident. How many more scars did you have on your body? He seemed to be asking himself the same question as his eyes rake over your form.  
  
"The one on your arm." He breathes out, chest rising up and down heavily. You glance at the one you made that wraps around your non-dominant upper arm, like a decorative tattoo. Perhaps a bit too eager, you dig the knife in and yelp in surprise...slowly dragging it around. Your hand is shaking. You're out of practice. Usually, you're not the one feeling pain when this is happening.  
  
"Aw, what's the matter? Can't you finish?" He's drawn his brows up with fake empathy written all over his face, and Strade takes a step forward.  
  
_YES_. You pant, glancing upwards. _Come closer_.  
  
"I...I can't." Your voice is a vulnerable whimper. A perfectly laid trap.  
  
"Don't worry then! I'll take care of-"  
  
_NOW_. He was quick, but you could be quicker. The moment Strade bends down to snatch up the knife, you slice open the old scar on his lower jaw, causing him to stumble back on his ass to the basement floor. What was that old saying?

An eye for an eye?  
  
The new scar looks great on him! He dabs his hand to his chin, glancing at the blood.  
  
"Whoa, _lebhaft_..." Strade has a wild look in his eyes, but he seems _impressed_. He even looks aroused - maybe even more than he already was watching you cut yourself.  
  
His reaction is perfect. You're both on the floor, panting - and you both want more. Not satisfied with one cut, you dive for him again. You knew you wouldn't win this time - but you didn't care.  
  
Strade was bigger, stronger. In fact, if he'd been _normal_ , you vaguely wonder if you'd have been able to overpower him at all. He catches your wrists, rolling with your body as the tables are turned and he presses his weight on top of you, digging his knee into your gut.  
  
You cry out in pain, but the gasp of arousal that comes with it is unmistakable.  
  
"That wasn't very nice of you. I gave you a choice." His low voice is rumbling near your ear, and he's grinning with a hungry look in his eyes when his gaze trails back to your unfinished arm. _"Now let me finish."_  
  
He's pinned you down completely as he stabs the knife back into your arm, the blood from his chin now sharing with yours. You scream, struggling under him as the pained sounds filling the air fill you with the exact same joy you get when you hear it from someone else...because _it is_ from someone else. This isn't you. This is a new side of you that Strade is showing you. A side that loves feeling the warm streams of blood slowly run down your arm in gorgeous patterns.  
  
You _thought_ you only liked pain. This was a new kind of pain, and you realize you _love_ it.  
  
Strade finishes the cut that wraps around your arm, but before you can feel disappointed that it's over, you hear him murmuring that you deserve a new one to match. You can't take it anymore! You _need_ him to cut now - the moment he digs the knife into your other arm, your pained scream ends in a moan.  
  
He's shaking with excitement and finishes quickly, drinking in your expression. "You're enjoying this... _aren't you_?" Strade's hot breath is on your ear, making you squirm. You feel dizzy with desire and overwhelmed by these new sensations. The wide smile that you thought was annoying is now the best sight in the world. You love how excited he looks. You wanted him to keep feeling that way.  
  
"I was right. I'm going to have so much fun with you!" He grins, suddenly tearing your underwear down your legs. You weakly struggle for the sake of it, because it makes him keep his hands and his body all over you. You feel his hands and his nails dig into the cut on your arm and you scream with delight.  
  
He's managed to turn you over onto your hands and knees, and you hear the unmistakable sound of a zipper.

"I'm enjoying this game...but don't upset me, liebling. You need to apologize for what you did earlier."  
  
_"I'm sorry."_ You gasp out, grinning and biting your lip. It's a lie, of course. You want to do more to him if he'd let you. He lets out an unexpected low chuckle.  
  
"No...I don't think you are. But you can make it up to me." Strade seems to be reading you loud and clear, now. You can feel him getting into your head, and the idea of someone that maybe finally understands you...  
  
You want to sigh with satisfaction the second you hear the knife drop to the floor again, within your reach. He's done it on perpose.  
  
"I want you to draw something real nice for me and apologize that way."  
  
You shakily reach for the knife, but your hand stumbles when Strade knees your thighs apart farther, forcing his member deep inside you without a single warning, filling you to the point it makes you scream in surprise and lust. It hurts, but you were already terribly aroused.  
  
"If you don't finish b-by the time I'm done, I'll think you're not s-serious." Strade's panting voice is laced with menace, driving the last word home with a thrust. He sounds absolutely crazed with lust as he pounds into you again, eliciting another scream of delight from your throat.  
  
You wondered why wou didn't want to turn around and hurt him.  
  
_But this wasn't your game_. You were _tired_ of _your_ game.  
  
_I want to play his_ , you thought, snatching up the knife as quickly as you could with the distraction of Strade thrusting into you without mercy. You used your non-dominant hand to barely stay propped up, your other underneath your torso as you begin to try and carve one of the first things you can think of into your chest - a heart. Simple enough. He should be satisfied. Maybe even charmed at your straight-forward confession!  
  
You hurriedly try to push the knife in, dragging it as you scream in overwhelming pain. Strade's pace picks up. _Oh, he likes that_. Your screaming makes him grunt harder, and you realize you'd better finish quickly because neither of you will last long with you doing _that_.  
  
_Halfway there_. The knife digs into your chest timed with Strade's violent thrusts, pushing your body down near the floor and farther into the knife every time. Your mind is clouded with pleasure. You can feel the warmth of your own blood dropping down your chest and to your stomach.  
  
_All of the things he's going to show me_. You think excitedly, remembering seeing all those power tools on the counter. _All the fun we're going to have._  
  
Strade's so lost in his own mind with lust that he doesn't even notice how hard he's leaned down onto you so he can grasp your throat in his hand.  
  
_IT HURTS._  
  
Your eyes go wide and you just know in your gut the knife went _too far_. You can feel the handle pressing against your chest and it feels like the life has been sucked right out of you.  
  
It might have punctured your lung.  
  
You can't tell.  
  
Warmth fills your body and you hear Strade grunt out a heated yell, and your legs quiver from the hot sensation of his cum. It feels good. _This feels so good_...you think you came too.  
  
"D-Did you finish my drawing, _liebling_?" His voice sounds far-off, despite him panting right next to your ear. You want to tell him yes. You want to say anything, really.  
  
It's too late though. You don't think you'll be able to speak again, as he turns you over and stares at what you've both done.  
  
"... ...Aw, buddy. You made a mistake, didn't you?" His brows draw up in a worried expression the moment he sees the hunting knife lodged in over your lung. _He was still smiling_. "That's really too bad."  
  
He sounds like he means it, even though he looks as terribly excited as ever. Strade never feels guilt. You know this, because you don't feel guilt either.  
  
But perhaps you both feel a little disappointed. Your time together was cut short.  
  
He wrings one last harrowed, weak scream from you as he pulls the knife from your chest. The wound rips open, the hole in your lung claiming your life quicker than you could have imagined it. You can't even reach for him, even though you want to.  
  
_You weren't supposed to be that weak._  
  
Suddenly, you appreciated your past victims a lot more. Some of them had really lasted a long time.  
  
But, your cut was beautiful. Blood poured uncontrollably from the wound. It looked like a weeping heart, and you felt comfort in how _right_ it was.  
  
In how that annoying smile finally made you feel _complete_ , as it was the last thing you knew you'd ever see. Your vision failed you.  
  
It really was too bad you couldn't have played more with Strade.

But you were both too eager.


End file.
